Riveted (Art of Eros #1) (4 page)

“What are you smiling about?” Mara tilted her head to peek at him.

“I’m wondering how lightning strikes twice. What are the chances that you and I would be staying in the same place?” His eyes devoured her enticingly, the wolf to her kitten, that one-step across the abyss into dangerous territory. He had never entertained the thought of fate but she had him questioning everything.

~

Mara chanced putting her hand in his as a hot tingle flowed to her toes. They both sensed it, not wanting to acknowledge it yet. Her body relaxed as her safety net returned. Another rivet holding the steel tightly shut started to come out, letting a sliver of light weave between the sheets of metal. The warming light made her think that she might not have to protect the image of her marriage. She wanted to share things with him but knew he might use it against her in the end. Her lack of trust in men reared its ugly head again, but he affected her, his voice and—God help her—that accent. She could listen to it all day long. Mac wouldn’t judge her. She didn’t have to protect herself in her fortress of steel. With each thing she revealed, there seemed to be more freedom from her confines.

What the hell is it about this man that makes me burn when he touches me? I want, no, I need to get inside him. I want him to keep touching me. I can’t remember the last time I ever wanted that.

The ease that she had with him on the plane came back to her. Fear and worry seemed to fall away being around him. He anchored her in the storm that recently surrounded her life. All these new sensations were alien to her. It tilted her off her axis, having never felt that way around any man. His handsome hands captivated her. She wondered about their warmth as they skimmed her face and body. She shouldn’t be thinking about this after just losing her husband. As she tried to reconcile the past and the present, she had the revelation that she’d lost her husband long before he died. Their marriage had been a facade to seem normal and happy for the sake of their social circle, masking what really happened behind closed doors. God forbid she didn’t appear to be perfect in a world full of imperfections.

“Well, I think you followed me here so I could hold your hand.” Oh, she was a little cocky. Why not? She was on vacation, new start, right? She needed a distraction and wanted to bring his ‘charming self’ down a notch.

“Are you sure it’s not the other way around? I remember someone grabbing my hand during the plane ride here. I bet there are a lot of things you can do with those talented hands. I think you might be a little smitten.” He gave her a cheeky grin, his eyes full of wonderment on what made this woman tick, daring her to challenge him. At every turn, she caught him a little off guard.

“Smitten! I think someone is a little high on himself right now.” She leaned back in her lounger, keeping her eyes locked on him, never letting go of his hand. Her eyes focused on the questions in his eyes.

“Really? Well, I think someone needs to cool off in the pool before she gets so turned on by me she starts to break a sweat.” With that said, he let go of her hand, stood up, and peeled off his t-shirt.

Holy Heaven, he’s cut to perfection. Nice pecs and ripped abs...a sculptor’s dream.

He leaned down and placed his hands on each side of her hips. “You have three seconds to take off your clothes before I get you wet.” His voice, heavily laden with that mesmerizing Scottish accent, suggested an image of hot sex.

Mara barely had a chance to rip off the sarong and throw the hat to the side before Mac grabbed her hand, stalking with her in tow toward the pool. She gave a squeal, trying to keep up with him, down the stairs and into the pool.

Mac took the stairs into the shallow end, submerging them in the warm water together. Mara let the water surround her and started to float away, but his arm anchored her to him by the waist, her back to his front. She loved the way his arm gripped her, unwilling to let her go. His warmth spread through her and she felt safe from head to toe. The soft whisper of wings fluttered in her stomach once again, a foreign feeling of excitement.

As his fingers slid across her stomach, she flinched but she was toned yet feminine in his grip. Her firm ass against his stomach got his blood pumping, among other things, as she could feel him rise to the occasion.

“And where do you think you’re going?” he whispered in her ear before turning her around to face him. Their noses were inches away from each other. Her breathing became shallow as he touched her jawline with his thumb. “I hope you put sunscreen on that beautiful face. I wouldn’t want you to turn into a cooked lobster out here. However, there are other parts of your body that I would like to make hot.”

Startled, it took the air out of her lungs. He could be so tender with her, yet possessive and sexy. He cared about a little thing like if she got burned or not, but obviously he had sex on the brain. Most men did. She never had that kind of attention from a man in...well...when was the last time anyone called her beautiful?

Surprised by the shock on her face as he made mention of her beauty again, he didn’t understand the emotions behind it. “Let’s play a game. Hmm? You know ‘Simon Says,’ right? Well, this is ‘Mac Says.’“ Mischief played his eyes. Mara caught on right away.

“Well, Mara says you have to catch me first!” With that, Mara spun out of his arms, diving into the clear blue water. Naturally, he let her go so he could catch her again. She didn’t swim too far before a hand gripped her ankle just before she reached the other side of the pool facing the ocean.

Mara shot up out of the water with a hearty belly laugh. She turned in time to come face to face with Mac, who wore a huge shit-eating grin. He had her pinned with her back to the side of the pool, his arms underneath hers. Her heart sped up. She was actually giddy, but with a mix of fear. Her body tensed like it always did with a man in such close proximity to her. Mac’s hair was slicked back from the water, wide eyes written with the intent and curiosity of a panther ready to strike at his prey.

~

Hearing her laughter speared straight through the middle of his chest. That laugh reminded him of when his sister was young. Fascinated by the little girl inside the woman who liked the game of being chased and caught, he could visualize what she must have been like as a child, her hair flowing behind her, running through a meadow being chased by her father. Almost immediately, her body went rigid and the light left her eyes. What would make her react like that after such playfulness? What was he going to do with the woman in his arms? He decided to push her a little to see her reaction.

Mac leaned closer to Mara’s ear, “Now that I’ve caught you, you need to give me my reward—a kiss.” He floated back to allow her to make a move, wanting to see if his kitten would continue to play.

Her cheeks were red, and not from the sun. She gazed at his lips and gently bit her lower one, calculating her next move. A pinball of confused emotions rattled her but she wanted to keep him guessing. She slowly leaned in for a first kiss, lingering briefly before she whispered, “You forgot to say ‘Mac says’.” Without warning, she dropped underneath the water, arms over her head, and swiftly swam away. He had given her a way out.
Smart girl.

Mac dove in after her, not to chase but to watch her body slice through the water. She swam with the swiftness and grace of a dolphin. Her body moved fluidly as she broke through the sun-sparkled surface. As she walked up the stairs and out of the pool, his eyes followed those incredible legs. They were long, lean and athletic. Oh, yeah, he was a leg man, wondering how they would feel wrapped around his waist as he was snug inside her.

As they reached the loungers, Mara threw her shoulders back in confidence and defiance. She beat him at his own game, keeping him at bay. But how long would that last over the next ten days? Mara turned into his hard chest, startled by his closeness, “Are you hungry?”

Mac put her chin between his finger and thumb, lifting her face up to him. “You may have won this round, but I don’t give up easily. So yes, I am definitely hungry.” He leaned in closer so only she could hear his words. “I will have you, guaranteed.”

A shiver ran through her; she was at a loss for words. He had hit every nerve in her body in a few sentences. He didn’t mince words, letting her know she was in his crosshairs. This encounter with him hit her core. There was a spark between her legs but she didn’t want to acknowledge yet. No one had ever made her desire so much. She leaned into his grip, letting the words wrap around her. Could she be the delicious woman he hungered for? Would he destroy her from the inside out, the way Brock had destroyed her? Was he a player looking for a quick lay? There were so many questions that ran through her head she didn’t know where to start.

“Then let’s order some lunch and talk. You’re a very interesting man and full of...energy.” She glared at him with one eyebrow cocked. If he could read her mind, she would challenge him to reveal some of his secrets any way necessary.

Chapter 4

They stayed by the pool and ordered a light lunch of fruit, cheese and assorted small sandwiches. Sitting close enough for their legs to touch, they flirted with future possibilities. The hot air coming off the pool deck countered the fresh breeze from the shore reflecting the atmosphere between them. Mara’s hunger had started to come back since Brock’s death. The exhaustive, ongoing investigation into his accident kept her in limbo and depressed. She wanted some closure to his death and answers to her questions. Whenever depression set in, she tended to lose her appetite, dropping some weight in the process. Not that it was a bad thing, but she didn’t feel healthy being skinny.

Once again, Mac stared at her, his gaze skimming her legs and torso. He met her eyes with a lazy smile and told her to, “Eat up. You could use a couple of pounds. I like my women with a little meat on them.” Then he winked at her as he fed her a strawberry from the fruit plate.

His eyes watched the way her lips wrapped around the strawberry while he held his breath. Her mouth appeared tentative one minute and confident the next, devouring the strawberry to the stem. The dichotomy added to her sensuality. Mac ran his thumb along her plump lower lip, wiping away a drop of strawberry juice and licking it. Her eyes locked onto his thumb as it entered his mouth.

Her eyes became hooded from his touch and his seductive play, but her body withdrew from him. As alluring as feeding her strawberries was, he needed her less skittish and more trusting, becoming very aware to tread lightly. She reminded him of a deer waiting for the gunshot in the forest. He read her well enough to know she would try to bolt at the first sign of danger.

He couldn’t quite get a handle on his attraction for this woman, yet it didn’t matter, she pushed all the right buttons for him. Mac appreciated her lack of seductive plays. She was strong yet flirty, a dangerous combination for any man. Her appeal was that she was herself. She didn’t know how much of true self she revealed to him. He had made a living out of reading people by watching them carefully; most times, it was a matter of life or death. He found all aspects of her fascinating, from spirited to fearful. He would need to dig a little deeper to find out where all that fear stemmed from.

After she devoured the strawberry, she watched the hunger on Mac’s face. As her body remembered her past, she jerked back away from him then stiffened for a minute at the sensation of being watched by someone. The hair on the nape of her neck stood on end as goose bumps formed down her arms. This tingling sensation had nothing to do with Mac. Maybe she was just being paranoid, but it set her on edge. She didn’t want to swivel around and seem obvious, so she stayed focused on the plate in front of her. From the shadows lurked a formidable enemy.

Even in the shadows, tucked away, you flinch as you sense me waiting for you, watching your every move. My time will come eventually. I need to wait it out. Lover boy doesn’t stand a chance in hell.

Mac drew her attention back to him but missed her brief discomfort. “So, tell me about how and where you grew up.”

“I grew up in Connecticut in a very wealthy but diverse community. My father, Antonio Luccenzo, is a world-renowned sculptor and my sisters, mother, and I are very well taken care of because of it. My mother, Guilianna, was an actress when she met and married my father. She gave up her career when she got pregnant with me. Mama taught her girls to be very independent and, as it turns out, we are all artists in our own right. We’ve had no choice but to stand on our own because Papa travels a lot for his international gallery openings.”

She was comfortable with her affluence but hesitated, playing with the fringe on her sarong. As she glanced up, his soft eyes were totally focused on her. The undivided attention made her a bit self-conscious. Her late husband showed no interest in anything she had to say. God knew when Papa was home it was all about him and his world of art.

She continued her story in a quiet voice. “When I was little, I was a dancer. I loved to dance; jazz, ballet, modern, any movement I could express with my body. Mama took me to all my rehearsals and recitals. Then I grew into a woman’s body full of curves. Curves and dancing don’t exactly go together. I couldn’t stay as thin as I needed to continue on that path and be successful. It ended my dancing career, and I headed full-on into sculpting, my second passion.”

Not sure why she wanted to share this piece of herself and having exposed more than she wanted to, she bathed in his comfort. For some reason, she fought to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. That simple shift from dance to sculpting served as a catalyst to the domino effect in her life. She buried her nails in the palm of her hand as a distraction from the familiar pain of loneliness, regret and the echo of Papa’s criticisms that boiled to the surface. Mara didn’t want to reveal her weaknesses hidden behind the steel-riveted impediment. Sadness dulled her eyes once again.

Mac lightened the mood, “I think we all give up childhood dreams at some point. Mine was to become a dragon trainer.” He winked at her and she laughed, a relief to a tense moment. She realized how well he had read her and tried to comfort her with humor.

“So, it sounds like your father wasn’t around much. Are you very close with him?” Mac watched as she wiggled in her chair. He hoped to get her to reveal herself just a bit more.

Damn, this man is perceptive. How can I get around that? Not easily, I would guess. I don’t want him to see the real me, the damaged me. Wouldn’t being attracted to a stupid man be easier? No, that would irritate me.

“He isn’t around much. Papa is either in the city at his studio or traveling to the next big opening. How close can you get to someone who is never there?” She had a bitter tone, which only emphasized the emptiness of growing up with an absentee father. “But my sisters and I have the best of everything, from cooks, to chauffeurs, to security guards. And we are all very good girls...well, with the exception of Raquelle, the wild child.” She smiled at the thought of her sister, the exact opposite of her in so many ways but always managed to stoke Mara’s embers.

Her sly smile caught his attention. “Why are you smiling? I bet there is a story or two there. Do you wish you were more like her?” Mac waited for yet another facet of Mara to surface, the one that lived underneath the skin of a scared fawn. He wondered if kitten was really the lioness in disguise.

“Raquelle is more than any one person should handle. That’s why it takes three of us—Mama, Leigha and me. We orbit around her, so to speak. She always has something going on and goes through men like water. Out of the three of us, she had the least amount of boundaries growing up. The portrait artist in her reads people very well. She’s always had an instinct for telling if someone is on the up-and-up or if they’re a dog.”

She had a warning in her eye that said,
wait until you meet her; then I’ll know all about you.

“Raquelle never did like my late husband. She made her distaste for him known early on, even to him. Let’s say they weren’t the best of friends. A little later in our marriage, Brock seemed to change. He was one thing in public but something else behind closed doors.”

Mara stopped abruptly. She wrapped her arms around herself as if there had never been anyone there to do that for her. Talking about it cleansed her. She wanted to be rid of the chains that weighed her down. Not wanting to be veiled by darkness, she clawed at her steel cage. She craved the light. Like all abused creatures, she wanted to be free of the bonds that held her but scared to death of freedom.

Despair came over her face as she averted her eyes to focus on the food that became droopy in the afternoon heat. She shivered slightly. He didn’t miss it because he was becoming so attune to this enigma before him. Surmising that her husband wasn’t of great caliber, he sensed it wasn’t the time to push her into telling him more. He reached out to hold her hand, lightly stroking her fingers.

Even in the warmth of Cancun, Mara couldn’t escape the coldness her memories still held of Brock. She began to wonder if the Brock behind closed doors was normal. The comfort of Mac’s hand calmed her, but she needed to switch gears before she imploded from the painful memories. She needed a distraction.

“Mac, I talked on and on while you’ve said very little about yourself. What’s your story? I’m sure you’re very interesting.” She let out an exhausted breath and her shoulders sagged, relieved to be focusing on something besides her tortured past.

He felt compelled to share part of his story, just not too much, considering how affected she had been opening up about her life. Mac didn’t share himself with the women in his life, but he couldn’t stay hidden from Mara. “I grew up in Musselburgh, Scotland. My family owns a farm, and we mostly raise sheep. We don’t live the high life, but it’s a good life full of hard work. I have two older brothers and had a younger sister.” Mac cut himself off from continuing the part of his story that hit a nerve, trying to hide from it.

Pain flickered across his eyes when he spoke of his sister. He hesitated then decided to continue on but redirected his tale. “I followed my brothers into the military, RAF, after my schooling and got trained in security. The military has been the better part of my life, traveling around the world and such. Now, I’m aiming to get out, venture into the private sector and stay in one place for a while.” He couldn’t tell her that he went on to become MI6 on highly classified missions. Bambi would have bolted for the hills given that information.

Mara recognized the subtle changes of deceit that quickly scrolled across Mac’s face, the same look Brock used to get when telling half-truths. She slid her hand out from under Mac’s. Mac thought he hid it, but Mara had years of experience reading Brock’s lying face. He had a way of casting a hard stare into her eyes when she questioned him as if to say, “Go ahead and challenge me.” That’s how she knew he was cheating.

Had she been wrong about Mac? What was the liar hiding? Her attraction to him might be nothing more than pheromones in action, a puff of chemistry, lust at best. They had barely touched skin to skin. Suspicion and regret started to snake their way into her head, having her take a small step back from the edge. One steel rivet was drilled back into place. Time to turn the tables.

“Tell me about your sister. I can tell you are still very affected by her.” Mara probed underneath the rogue man before her. She had to get him to open up to her, wanting to find the crack in his fortress.

He seemed a master at the art of seduction, using it to deflect from the lies. It seemed odd he didn’t he have a family by this point.

He felt her remove herself from him, both physically and emotionally, unsure of the trigger that caused it. Mac tried to avoid talking about Kendall at all costs. The pain had dulled over the years but had never really gone away. Her death was like barbed wire wrapped around his heart, tight enough to grip but not bleed. He had spent so many years losing himself in women, avoiding any real closeness or anything with any depth. He couldn’t deal with any more loss. It hurt too much. No talking necessary, nothing to share.

The sympathy of the woman before him made him want to give her this piece of himself. She didn’t seem to want anything from him except who he was as a man. Tired of running, tired of hiding and sick of superficial women, she, of all people, would understand the loss and grief after just losing her husband. He related to the hollowness in her eyes, but fear held him back. The fear of loving someone too much, then losing them in the blink of an eye. He’d had his fair share of loss, from his sister to his colleagues. He wasn’t ready to open up quite yet.

Without answering her question, he shifted gears in their conversation. He focused on more questions about her father’s sculptures, as well as her own. It gave him insight to the inquisitive and sensitive woman before him. He loved watching her eyes light up as she talked about her artwork. She had a passion in her he didn’t think she often showed people. Her laugher...well, that did things to him he didn’t even want to think about. She shared more about her sisters and their artwork.

“Leigha is always so in control and together. She started out in modeling at an early age but found her passion behind the camera. Photography is her love. She starting taking pictures from the time she was very young. She mostly works doing print ads. She’s becoming quite popular, starting to make a name for herself. As far as men go, she tends to pick the boring, non-threatening ones. Not sure why.”

“Raquelle is a whole other story. She’s in control in a completely different way. Her portrait work is her passion. She can disappear in her studio for days, working to perfect a piece. It’s her heart and soul. That part of her reminds me of our father. They both become engrossed in their work and they are equally talented. Her portraits are amazing and just starting to get recognized, scoring some big name clients. However, she doesn’t hold on to men long at all. She goes from one to the next. I think it’s her way of controlling her emotions. Growing up without our father around, I don’t know who her role model for a man would even be.”

She paused, thinking back to when they were younger. Her eyes became very focused and clear. “We never really fought when we were kids, but there was a distance between us. The recent events in my life have brought us closer together than ever.” They continued to talk, falling into a comfort zone while telling funny stories about childhood antics.

The sun began to make long shadows in the late afternoon, bringing their day to a close. Mac wanted to be with Mara again as soon as possible to unravel more of the mystery.